


I'm Not Crying on Sundays

by thepocketdragon



Category: Pitch Perfect (Movies)
Genre: Coming Out, F/F, LGBT, bechloe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-03
Updated: 2021-03-03
Packaged: 2021-03-16 19:16:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepocketdragon/pseuds/thepocketdragon
Summary: Beca doesn’t have many good things to say about Kommisar, but she can’t deny that she’s helped click a pretty big piece of the puzzle into place (spoiler alert: it’s a massive rainbow flag). The problem is that, now she knows, she has to tell people. People like Chloe.Beca’s coming out story in five short snippets. Set towards the end of PP2.
Relationships: Chloe Beale & Beca Mitchell, Chloe Beale/Beca Mitchell
Comments: 20
Kudos: 140





	I'm Not Crying on Sundays

**Author's Note:**

> This basically fell out of my brain while I was procrastinating (standard). 
> 
> I've been having a lot of thoughts about 'gay panic' recently and the period that follows when things begin to make a lot more sense. I thought about Beca and what her experience might look like and, well, this happened.
> 
> As always, I'd love to know what you think.

**Beca**

It takes a long time for Beca to recognise that there is a difference between admiration and attraction. As a kid, for as long as she can remember, there have always been girls- women- she has put on some kind of pedestal in her mind. In the beginning, they were musicians. Girls with guitars who had the kind of bubblegum-popping bad attitude a 9-year-old aspires to have. Over time, it was actresses, funny inspiring kinds of performers, who caught her attention and ended up as her screensaver or on a poster on her wall.

Maybe, Beca thinks, it did start out as admiration. Maybe those women, in the early years, weren’t crushes,but a reflection of who she wanted to be.

Or maybe she’s been kidding herself since the third grade.

The piecing together of the puzzle takes far longer than it should have. Sure, it’s complicated and her senior year timetable doesn’t leave much time for an existential crisis, but, looking back, it’s all there. The inability to have more than one female friend at once. Really intense, one-on-one friendships that ended in bitter arguments fuelled by jealousy. Cutting out pictures from magazines of her favourite actresses and singers and pasting them onto mood boards. The strange lurch in her stomach she would get when she saw paparazzi shots of these women with their boyfriends, holding hands and kissing for the cameras. It strikes her, now, just how funny it is that she can’t even remember what the men in those pictures looked like. The girls, though? She could probably still draw some of their outfits from memory.

At first, she had blamed being a late bloomer on the fact that looking at boys did nothing for her. Of course, she had pretended, bluffing her way through sleepovers as the others lusted after Leonardo DiCaprio or whoever that guy was from that TV show she had lied about watching. Even as she had grown older, dating felt like going through the motions.

Even in college. Even with Jesse.

Jesse had painted a picture of romance for her. He had shown her countless movies with famous kisses or famous couples in them. He had smiled and laughed and his eyes had done that dopey thing when they finally got together on screen. Like he understood it. Like it meant something to him. Beca had watched each and every movie with a part of her wondering why they always made relationships look so exciting. In her experience, being with someone, dating someone, was nothing like the movies. In the end, that was the line she had used to break up with him.

Beca never through she would hold even a grain of gratitude for the German Kommisar from Das Sound Machine. She certainly never expected the platinum blonde to be the one to slot the final puzzle piece into place, but it happens.There’s a smell of cinnamon and leather and an undeniable fire sparking in her belly. Her senses seem lifted, somehow, and the image of this girl, this weird half-hatred, half-desperation she conjures within Beca, her flips a switch.

Suddenly, it is as if there is a sign above her head. A big, rainbow-coloured neon sign flashing the word ‘gay’ over and over.

Everything Beca has ever felt, every thought she has ever had about a girl or a woman, seems to flood to the forefront of her mind. Everything looks different, now. It makes sense. Every woman she admired as a kid, every friend who she couldn’t bring herself to share, every guy she had pretended to like because she thought that, eventually, she would just get used to it, they’re all there.

And then, at the very front of the line, is Chloe.

In this new light, Beca can’t help but think she looks even more beautiful.

That, she realises, might be a problem.

* * *

**Fat Amy**

Beca finds herself spending her days focusing on school work and her evenings focusing on what she calls ‘making sure’. It’s not a complicated process, but it makes her feel like a clueless adolescent all over again. She spends hours trawling forums and websites for checklists, for stories about people’s first hints or first realisations or first crushes. She finds herself wanting to know the exact moment the penny dropped for everyone else, just to understand whether what she is feeling is- in fact- what she thinks it is.

The worst part of all of it is keeping it a secret. After growing to be open and honest with the girls she lives with, spends her life with, it feels like she’s taking a massive step backwards, heading even further into the closet she’s apparently been dwelling in for her entire life. Holding this inside is ovewhelming. With school and Worlds and her entire future on the horizon, it is no wonder that Beca finds herself curled on her bed, clutching a pillow to her chest, sighing at the signed picture of Hayley Williams on her wall and wondering how she could have misunderstood herself so badly for so long.

“Ayo! BM!”

A frantic wipe of her eyes will never be enough to put Amy off the scent of a Bella in need of a hug. Amy, despite her general level of obliviousness and self-absorption, always seems to be the one to find her when she’s having a crisis of some kind. Of course she does. She’s her roommate.

Beca wonders if she can possibly get any more clueless.

“Dude. You… you crying?”

“No.” It’s a stupid lie but Beca’s relying on her defences now, throwing everything she can to keep people back as she feels her walls weakening at the the foundation. “Allergies.”

“Well, maybe I have them too. My nose is tingling because, turns out, I’m allergic to bullshit.” Amy throws herself down on the edge of Beca’s bed and pats her calf. “Should I get Chloe?”

The reaction in Beca’s body is nothing short of visceral. She shakes her head wildly, her eyes darting from side to side as she scrambles into a sitting position and pulls her knees to her chest.

“No. Not… no. Please.”

“Alright.” Beca doesn’t quite recognise the look on Amy’s face. It’s oddly calm and sympathetic. She smiles gently, before reaching out to brush her hair off her face. “Given the way you just reacted, I’m going to ask you something okay? And you know you can be completely honest with me. I don’t judge. Well, I do but, well… Okay forget I said that. Just…” There’s something about the kindness in Amy’s eyes that puts Beca on edge. It isn’t right, somehow, like the feeling of leaving the house wearing two left shoes. “I borrowed your laptop the other day. Just to google something real quick and, ah, I noticed your search history.”

Beca feels her mouth go dry.

“You know, we happen to live in the most sapphic house on campus. You have people here you can talk to. We all love you, Beca, and nothing will change that.” Tears are freely spilling down Beca’s cheeks now. Amy reaches out and, softly, wipes at them. “I think most of us saw the plaid shirts and made assumptions a long time a go. To be honest, the most shocking thing was watching you make out with Jesse.”

“The plaid shirts? Oh jeez.” Another wave of realisation crashes over Beca. She meets Amy’s gaze through hooded lids. “I really am the last person to know, aren’t I? I… I’m the only person left in the world who doesn’t seem to know that I’m a…” Something gets stuck. The word, the thought, the idea. It gets stuck and it won’t come out. Panicked, short breaths are just about all Beca can achieve until Amy’s soothing voice brings her back to reality. She looks up at her roommate, who is just about cradling her, and licks her lips. “I can’t say it.”

“You can. You…” Amy shakes her head. “Beca, I have more faith in you than I thought I would ever have in another person, especially an American. And a skinny American at that. But you, DJ BM, are invincible. Whatever you are, whichever words you use to define yourself, you’re always going to be the most talented friend I have. And I, and the rest of these girls, we’ll always love you. Don’t be scared to be who you are, because who you are is incredible, alright?”

It breaks the dam and Beca finds herself sobbing into Amy’s shirt, feeling her hot tears soaking through the fabric. “Dude, you know I can’t deal with sincerity from you. This is bullshit. I… I’m going to get you back for this.”

“Well, my darling DJ, that might have to wait. I came up here to find you because Chloe called a house meeting. Something about finding a condom in the pool filter?”

“Shit. Now? Amy I look like crap.”

“Beca?”

Her eyes go wide at the sound of the familiar voice. Beca tries her best to wipe at her eyes, but she knows Chloe will see right through her fake smile the moment she ascends the stairs.

“Bec.” She does. Her eyes say it all, the way they stare at her as her full lips turn downwards. “What’s happened?”

Amy is standing behind Chloe, giving Beca a look that she can’t respond to. Instead, she reverts to her usual methods and just… covers it up.

“It’s nothing. I… I’m fine.” Chloe’s expression changes. She raises one eyebrow. “Honestly, I’m good.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” Chloe turns on her heel and begins to walk down the stairs. “I’ll hold the girls off for a couple minutes to let you find some concealer or something.” Beca knows from the way she speaks that Chloe is worried about her. That she knows she’s being lied to and she doesn’t like it. “And I’ll make you a tea.”

As soon as the door closes, Beca knows what Amy is going to say. It comes out in a raised whisper, confusion colouring her tone.

“You… you’re going to tell her, right?”

Beca knows she has to at some point, but the idea of telling Chloe, of talking about any of this, feels far bigger than just coming out. It feels like change.

It feels like the end of something.

“I… I will” Beca finally stumbles her way through her words, “but not yet. I… I need time.”

* * *

**Jesse**

“Where are you off to?”

Chloe catches her just as she’s about to leave, a bag full of snacks and drinks on her back.

“The quad. I… I’m meeting Jesse.” She doesn’t say what for. She can’t. Not yet. Instead, she settles for a half-truth. “We’re trying to be friends.”

Chloe’s eyes widen in response. “Oh.” Her answer is clipped. Short. “Have fun.”

As Beca opens the front door of their house and steps out into the warm Georgia spring air, she thinks to herself that- actually- watching an entire movie from start to finish would be more fun than this. So, in fact, would a root canal.

They arrange to meet under the tree by the edge of the quad. It’s as close as they get to having a ‘special place’, her and Jesse. They have memories there, conversations and moments and, Beca realises, they’re all going to be coloured a little differently after this. It hurts to think about.

Jesse is already there, sat on a blanket he has set out for them both. Beca puts her bag down and opens it, handing him a juice pouch.

“For old time’s sake.”

She says it with a smile, and she gets one back from Jesse. Their breakup was boring, far less emotional or dramatic than either of them had anticipated, and being friends already feels much easier.

Beca can’t help the light chuckle that escapes her lips when she realises exactly _why_ that might be the case.

“You… something funny?” Jesse takes a sip of his drink.

“Sorry. It’s… it’s a nervous laugh.” There isn’t a good way to do this. There isn’t a set way, either. Beca should know. She’s checked. “I have to tell you something.”

Immediately, Jesse’s eyes drift down her body to her stomach. He pauses there for a moment before looking back at her face. “But we… we were careful. I… I thought we…”

“No.”

“No?”

Beca bites on the inside of her lip as she prepares to say the words she has planned. The words she has repeated a handful of times to herself in the mirror. She can’t believe she has actually rehearsed this moment. It feels ridiculous to admit.

“Jesse, I… I’ve been thinking a lot recently since we… since we broke up.” Beca can feel her pulse racing. “I… I… I’ve had a lot of time to think about stuff, about you and about other… things.” Why can’t she say it? Beca licks her lips, wondering if a little lubrication might just help coax the words out of her mouth. “Being with you was, was great. You were so kind and you made me feel safe but I think there was always a part of me that was- and please don’t take this the wrong way- but I think I was pretending.” She can’t bring herself to look at Jesse. Not yet. Instead, Beca focuses on two guys throwing a baseball back and forth in the distance. “I wasn’t fully aware of why, I don’t think, and I genuinely believe that I just assumed that every other girl felt like I did. Like… like they were wearing a mask, too. Like they were in a play. A… a character.”

“So… you weren’t in love with me?”

Beca hadn’t expected Jesse to bat back with that. She hadn’t expected such an emotional blow and it _hurts_ when it hits her.

“Jess.” Out of the corner of her eye, Beca sees him open his mouth again. Before he can, she finally blurts it out. “Jesse, I’m gay.”

When she says it, out loud, it is as if- for a second- the world stops turning.

There is nothing but shocked silence.

Nothing but the echoing sound of her own voice in her head, the sound of her breath hitching as her hand reaches up to cup around her mouth as she lets out a loud sob.

Jesse’s arms are there, just like they always have been, pulling her close to his chest. He holds her, stroking her arm with his hand, rocking gently back and forth until she can breathe again. Until she can hear the sounds of the world around her.

Until she can understand that the world hasn’t ended.

“That’s the first time I’ve said that out loud to another person.”

“Why… why me?”

Beca picks at the fibres on the picnic rug. “Because you deserved to know first. Be… because I needed you to know as a friend and because, well, I want you to know that I loved you as much as I could.”

“Bec.”

She shakes her head, repeating herself. “I… I didn’t know then, Jess. It just… it’s like suddenly this light has turned on and I can see for the first time.” The tears are back, blurring her vision as she feels Jesse take her hand. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

They stay on the picnic blanket for a long time, just talking. Jesse has questions, some of which Beca can’t answer, but they talk.

It feels good.

“What did Chloe say?”

Beca shakes her head. “I haven’t told her yet. I… I told you, you’re the first person I’ve said it to.”

Jesse’s wide eyes give away his surprise. “Wow.”

There is something unspoken between them, then. A brand new elephant in the room. Beca focuses on the here and now, on asking Jesse about his plans for film school and his parents and what the Trebles are singing at nationals.

She focuses so hard on Jesse, on making him feel comfortable and on trying her best not to invalidate the effort he put into making her feel loved, that Beca fails to answer the seven texts on her phone.

She certainly doesn’t notice the girl with striking red hair taking the long way to the campus coffee shop.

Beca stands and pulls Jesse to his feet. She waits for him to hug her, lets him squeeze a little tighter than she would like, and steps back.

“Jesse, I… I’m sorry. For… I don’t know. I just need you to know I’m sorry, ok?”

His hand reaches down for hers, taking it loosely. “Don’t apologise.” He smiles as genuinely as he can. “Are you ok?”

“I will be.” Beca looks into his eyes. “Are you?”

Jesse shrugs. “I will be.”

Beca begins her walk back to campus, her headphones firmly in her ears.

It isn’t just the bag that feels lighter. Her entire body feels as if a weight has been lifted.

The first weight of many.

With her music blaring, Beca walks back into the house, completely oblivious to the way Chloe is watching from the driver’s seat of her car.

* * *

**Dr Mitchell.**

The box on the calendar, in the column labelled ‘Beca' is filled simply with an ominous ‘coffee with dad’.

Only Beca knows exactly what it means.

“Are you going out again?”

Chloe is in the kitchen when Beca finally finds it within herself to leave her room and walk down the stairs. She had a plan in her head, a plan she had repeated over and over as she tried to calm her nervous and just… do it.

She hadn’t anticipated Chloe being there.

It throws her off her game.

“Me?”

“Beca, you’re the only other person in the room.” Chloe’s eyes narrow slightly. “Look, are you… is everything ok? You seem jumpy.”

“‘M fine.” It’s yet another lie. Another covering of the truth. Every single time, Beca feels as if she’s stabbing Chloe in the back. “Just… late.”

“I can give you a ride?”

Beca can’t bear the thought of being trapped in the car with anyone right now. For once in her life, Chloe is actually the worst person she could imagine being with.

“No, it’s fine. I’m only going across campus to my dad’s place. I… I’ll walk.”

Beca isn’t sure if Chloe says anything else. The door is open and her headphones are in her ears.

She doesn’t look back.

She can’t.

“You know, we only have a few of these coffee dates left before you’re a grad, Bec.”

Beca tries her best to smile as her dad passes her a steaming cup of coffee. They both drink it the exact same way. It is one of the only ways they are alike.

Well, Beca thinks. There is one more.

“Sheila… she’s sorry she couldn’t be here.”

Beca has grown to tolerate her stepmother, if only because she sees how happy she has made her dad.

She can only hope that they will feel the same way when she finally meets someone.

She can only hope that they won’t mind that that someone will definitely be a girl.

“Bec?” Her dad notices her nervous tapping straight away. He doesn’t quite reach for her hand, but his wrist twitches as if he wants to. His eyes are soft, edged with concern. “Is everything alright?”

“I… yeah. I just… I need to tell you something.”

It’s become her line. Her _in._ Dr Mitchell sits down across from her at the kitchen island and does his best reassuring nod.

“Well, I’m all ears, honey.”

“Dad, I…” the tears come without warning. It’s strange, Beca thinks, just how much emotion she has buried deep within herself. It’s like it’s been there all along, squashed flat by a heavy brick with the words ‘you’re gay’ scrawled across it. As soon as she uncovered it, everything else it had been sat on came up to the surface, too. “Sorry, I… I thought I’d got this down…”

“Bec, are you sick? Are…. Do you need money? Or help? I… You know I’ll do what I can.”

All she can do is shake her head and take a long breath in through her nose. She exhales out of her mouth, the way she had been taught to do by her meditation app. Counting down from five, Beca finally looks her father in the eye.

“Dad, I’m gay.”

When he doesn’t say anything, Beca rushes to fill the silence with as much truth as she wants him to have. “I… I’m sorry if it’s a shock or if, I don’t know, it changes things, but it’s taken me a long time to realise that that’s who I am. I… I didn’t get it before. I didn’t understand why I didn’t feel the same way as the other girls in school did about boys and stuff. I… I never found Leonardo DiCaprio attractive and I only liked David Beckham because he was good at soccer. And, well, it’s taken me a long time to figure it all out. I thought I was just awful at relationships because…”

“Because we’d set such a bad example?” They are long past the point of skirting around how much damage Beca experienced during her parent’s divorce. They are long past passing blame.

“Kind of.” Beca sighs. “Yeah, I think that was a big part of it. I… I just blamed it on being… scarred, I guess? I thought I was holding myself back from falling for someone because I’d seen mom get hurt so badly. I had this whole theory in my head that, subconsciously, I’d decided love wasn’t worth the pain. I thought that explained why I always felt so… numb.”

“Oh, Beca.” Dr Mitchell reaches out for her hand, then. He takes it and holds it tightly in his. “I had no idea.”

Beca half-smiles through her tears. “Well, I guess I learned how to keep it all hidden. I’ve always been good at that.”

“But now?”

“I guess I finally realised that there was another explanation for everything.”

By the time they are done talking, Beca is all cried out. Her dad has made all of the jokes he can about little league softball and her first plaid shirt and the huge poster of Avril Lavigne she had insisted on putting on her bedroom ceiling so that she could see it in bed. She has rolled her eyes and laughed a little and, along the way, she has accepted the fact that her dad loves her and that she’s safe.

As she gets to the front door, ready to leave, he pulls her in for one final hug.

“I think I’ve hugged you more today than I have in the past six years. You don’t usually let me get this close.”

Beca shrugs from within his strong arms. “Eh, it’s just my vulnerable emotional state. I’ll be back to my normal self soon enough.”

Before he lets go, Dr Mitchell pulls Beca close and kisses her forehead. “I love you, okay? And I’m proud of you. I’m proud of everything about the person you’ve become. Nothing will change that.”

Nothing will change.

As Beca turns to walk down the street and spots Chloe’s car waiting for her with the passenger door open, she can’t help but wonder if she’ll hear those words again.

She isn’t sure if she wants to.

* * *

**Chloe**

Beca gets in the car and puts on her seatbelt. She can feel Chloe’s eyes on her, but neither of them speak.

The energy is tense, the air between them heavier than it has ever been. This is different, Beca realises, to when she’s been caught out hiding secrets before. This is bigger. It involves her family and her friends and… Chloe.

“You’ve been crying again.”

It isn’t a question. Beca knows she doesn’t need to answer, but Chloe deserves _something._ She wipes under her eyes and blows out a breath. “Yeah. I… I seem to be doing that a lot these days.”

The “mm” she gets back from the redhead in the driver’s seat feels completely noncommittal.

“Where… where are we going?”

“Somewhere quiet.” Chloe’s eyes are focussed on the road as she pulls her car around a corner and out of the university complex. “I figured that, since you seem to be avoiding me and I don’t have any bear traps to hand, the second-best option would be to put you in a moving vehicle and lock the doors.”

In a flash of thought, Beca considers that Chloe would probably make a very effective hitman.

“You… you will let me out though, right? Like, at some point?”

Chloe’s shrug does nothing to calm her nerves.

They pull up in the parking lot of a Wendy’s. Beca is about to ask why Chloe has chosen this particular location, but the redhead gets there first. “There’s a bus stop down the street that will take you back to campus.” She still can’t look at her Beca notices. She stares ahead, even though the car is parked. “I figured that, this way, I can be the one to make a dramatic exit if I need to.”

Chloe’s words drip with accusation. It doesn’t do anything to help the nerves in Beca’s stomach. She hates making her friends angry, hates letting them down. She can’t bear that, somehow, she’s hurt Chloe already in all of this.

“Look, I’m going to ask you straight because I can’t go through another round of not knowing what the hell is going on with you.” Finally, Chloe looks at her. Her eyes reflect the bright sky outside. The icy blue makes Beca’s blood run cold. “Are you sick or something?”

Beca shakes her head.

“Are you moving away?”

Again, she shakes her head.

“Is… is there something serious going on with you?”

  
Beca isn’t entirely sure how to answer that one. She opens her mouth to try and put words together, but Chloe beats her to it.

“Because, honestly Beca, if there is something serious going on with you, something so bad that you’re hugging your dad and openly crying on the quad with Jesse, why… why am I the last person to know?” Chloe stares at her, then. Pleading with her eyes. “Why am I the last person to know _again_?”

Beca has an answer. Her mouth opens and closes a handful of times before she manages to say it. It comes out in a quiet, croaked admission.

“Because you matter the most.”

It’s the truth. There is nothing more to it than that.

“Be… because your friendship is more important to me than anything else and I’m scared about ruining it. I’m scared about changing it.”

“Bec, what’s… what’s going on?”

Beca closes her eyes and, finally, says the words out loud. “I’m gay.”

When she opens her eyes, she doesn’t expect Chloe to be smiling. She certainly doesn’t expect a peal of laughter to ring through the car. “Seriously?” Beca nods her head, becoming increasingly concerned that her confession has somehow triggered some kind of episode in her best friend. An arm reaches out to push at her. “Beca, I thought you were _dying_.”

“I… what?”

“I was so pissed with you. I couldn’t believe you were having all these secret conversations with all of these people and that you were leaving me behind. I… I thought you must have some kind of incurable disease or something.”

“Well, I have been recently diagnosed with lesbianism. As far as I know, there isn’t a cure.”

Chloe’s jaw drops. “You’re making _jokes_? Now?”

Beca knows why she’s making jokes. She knows there’s a reason she feels free enough to laugh, to smile. The final weight is gone and she’s floating. Or, well, she would be if she wasn’t currently locked inside a 2004 Honda Civic with a taped-on side mirror.

She pushes herself back slightly in her seat and, finally, brings herself to look across at Chloe. She wants to know if she’s looking at her differently, if anything gives away that something has fundamentally changed.

“You… are you okay with this?”

Chloe smiles softly at Beca. It’s the smile Beca had been waiting for. “I’m fairly certain I should be asking you.” She pauses and tilts her head. “Was it that German girl?”

“Eh” Beca shrugs, “I guess I had to confront a few things after that word vomit came out of my mouth, but I think… I think it’s been a long time coming. I think I just had never really understood my own feelings. And… now I do. And now I can give it a name and I can say ‘I’m gay’ without passing out so…”

“I’m proud of you.”

Beca nods her head. She has never been able to take a compliment. 

“And… and I love you. You’re my best friend, Bec.” Before Beca has chance to respond, Chloe unlocks the car. “I… I feel like we should be celebrating, not sat here in the car.” Beca turns to look at her best friend. “Milkshake? My treat.”

Beca clambers out of the car and begins to walk across the parking lot towards the front door of the restaurant. Chloe races over to her and, before they reach the door, takes Beca’s hand in hers.

“I really am proud of you, you know. Nothing will ever change that.”

Even when they walk in and place their order, Chloe doesn’t let go of Beca’s hand. She holds her close and Beca lets herself just be held for once. 

“You know,” it’s the first time she has spoken in a while and Beca speaks quietly so that only Chloe can hear, “I was so scared to tell you. I… I was terrified that it would change something between us.”

Chloe’s hand squeezes hers just for a second, just enough to prompt Beca to look in her eyes.

“What if it did?”

“Hm?”

Chloe glances down at their conjoined hands. “What… what if it did change something? Would… would that necessarily be a bad thing?”

The only thing Beca can do is smile and shake her head.

“I’ve got a chocolate and a strawberry milkshake? Order 216?”

They walk to the counter together. Hand in hand. “Thanks. They’re for us.”

_Us._

Beca can’t help but think that, maybe this time, change is a good thing.

After all, it feels like the start of something.

Something real.


End file.
